


Twelve Drummers Drumming

by spilled_notes



Category: Holby City
Genre: AAU family reunion, Christmas, F/F, Future Fic, Raf is very definitely Still Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: In the best tradition of Christmas rites of inversion, Holby's Acting CEO descends from her office to AAU for one day only, reuniting the co-leads and the rest of their AAU family. Ghosts of Christmas past might haunt the halls, but Serena is determined to focus on Christmas present - and Christmas future.





	Twelve Drummers Drumming

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Twelfth Day/Christmas! Hope you’ve all enjoyed this fest – I know I have, and huge thanks to @lavenderseaslug for organising and asking me to take part. As a special treat, I’ve hidden a reference to each of the twelve days in this fic (out of order, and some more oblique than others…) – virtual chocolate coins if you manage to spot them all!

 

‘There’s a sight for sore eyes,’ Bernie calls across the ward when Serena walks through the doors, sanitising her hands and walking away from the bedside of a Father Christmas looking rather the worse for wear. ‘But I was expecting you earlier, Campbell.’

‘Took my PA longer than I anticipated to grasp the concept of the Acting CEO not only leaving her office for the day but wishing to remain incommunicado unless the hospital’s burning down,’ Serena explains, rolling her eyes.

‘You’re here now, though,’ Bernie smiles, _back where you belong_ hanging unsaid between them.

‘I am,’ Serena replies, her fingers lingering on Bernie’s arm. ‘Where would you like me, Ms Wolfe?’

Bernie smirks, presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows.

‘Oh hush you, you know what I mean,’ Serena scolds fondly.

‘Well I was hoping you might join me in theatre this afternoon. I’ve got a pseudoaneurysm of the splenic artery that would benefit from your expertise.’

‘You do know how to show a girl a good time.’

Bernie leans closer, lowers her voice so she won’t be overheard. ‘Oh, I think we’ve already established that,’ she murmurs, her eyes glittering.

‘Behave,’ Serena warns. But her eyes are glittering too, and she doesn’t move away. She only breaks eye contact, only withdraws her hand to fiddle with her pendant, when Morven rushes over.

‘Ms Campbell! What are you doing here?’

‘You missing us, way up in your ivory tower?’ Raf teases, joining them at the nurses’ station.

‘I am,’ Serena says sincerely. ‘And as a special Christmas Eve treat for you all I thought I’d grace you with my presence for the day.’

Morven practically squeals with excitement, bouncing on her toes. ‘The dream team back together,’ she grins.

‘Just need Fletch down here too,’ Raf says a little wistfully.

Serena exchanges a glance with Bernie and decides to do one more thing as Acting CEO before immersing herself entirely in AAU for the rest of the day, takes advantage of her authority to have the Director of Nursing jump when she calls.

All it takes is a quick page. He steps out of the lift as Bernie, Serena by her side, is addressing the F1s. Serena hears the doors slide open behind them, knows that it’s Fletch by the way Raf’s face lights up in surprise. He shoots a questioning glance at her and Serena smiles before returning her attention to Bernie.

She’s missed this the past few months, since Henrik went on sabbatical – being on the ward, yes, and the cut and thrust of surgery, but more than that she’s missed working with Bernie, missed sharing a ward and an office and a theatre with her. She thought they might never work together again – after Ellie and France and Sudan – but here they are. Or there they were, rather, until Henrik left. And now, for one day, here they are again.

And here, staring at her with mingled terror and respect, are Bernie’s current batch of F1s. They look so young and fresh, and Serena can’t help thinking of Jasmine.

_Pull yourself together,_ she thinks firmly as Bernie turns to her. _You can’t change what happened, but you_ can _do something for them, do better by them than you did by her._

‘Ms Wolfe has very kindly agreed to allow me to work with you today,’ Serena begins. ‘I hope you’ll all get the chance to come into theatre with me – Ms Wolfe has split you into groups of three and we’ll be drawing names out of a hat to make it fair.’

A boy in glasses who reminds Serena so much of Arthur that she has to blink raises his hand.

‘Yes?’

‘We’re– we’re going to be observing you in theatre?’

‘You are,’ Serena confirms. ‘In fact, I hope you’ll be doing rather more than just observing.’

An excited murmur ripples through the group, and the boy raises his hand again. ‘We’re going to get to operate with you?’

‘That’s what I said,’ Serena smiles.

‘You’re very lucky,’ Bernie says, glancing at Serena. ‘Ms Campbell is an excellent surgeon, and an excellent teacher. You could learn a lot from her today – just pay attention and remember what you’ve been taught.’

‘And don’t look so scared,’ Serena adds. ‘I don’t bite.’

Beside her Bernie chokes and splutters, and Serena holds back a smirk as she rubs between her shoulder blades.

‘Alright there?’ she asks sweetly.

‘Fine,’ Bernie mutters, scowling at her. ‘Nurse Fletcher, would you do the honours?’ she asks, picking a Santa hat up from the desk and holding it towards him.

‘Of course,’ Fletch grins. He sticks his hand in, makes a show of rummaging around and then pulls out a slip of paper. ‘And the winners are – drumroll please,’ he says, unfolding it. ‘Doctors Flint, Oduba and Mackenzie.’

‘Scrub up you three,’ Serena smiles.

‘And the rest of you – to work,’ Bernie says. ‘Let’s show Ms Campbell that we’ve been keeping her ward in good nick.’

They take a moment in their office – Bernie’s office, for now – before launching into the day properly. Serena reaches for Bernie and tangles their fingers, smiles when Bernie shifts closer and bumps their shoulders together.

‘Alright?’ Bernie asks softly.

Serena nods, watches as Bernie reaches for her other hand and rubs her thumb across the gold band on her ring finger.

‘Thank you for letting me do this.’

‘You’re a hard woman to say no to,’ Bernie teases. ‘I’ve missed you – even though you’re only a few floors away.’

‘Missed you too,’ Serena smiles.

*

Serena is in theatre all morning, knows from her stomach that she’s gone through lunchtime; she’d forgotten that surgeries always take longer than usual with F1s, especially when she’s getting them to do as much of the work as possible rather than just watching her. She scrubs out slowly, the familiar rhythms and routines soothing, listens to the excited chatter of the last trio of F1s and feels satisfaction and sorrow well up inside her. She remembers the promise she made to herself when Bernie told her about Jasmine – that when she was better she would atone for her behaviour, would do for other young doctors what her grief had stopped her doing for Jasmine.

_I’ve done that today,_ she thinks, blinking back tears.

When she walks back onto AAU, still in her scrubs but with Bernie’s hoodie over the top, she stands by the nurses’ station and just takes it all in. Her eyes automatically track to Bernie, pick her out among the sea of pale blue scrubs flitting between beds filled with the usual seasonal influx of daytime drunks and slips on ice and Christmas decoration-related injuries, and a selection box of patients that makes Serena wonder if someone in Holby was attempting a live re-enactment of _The Twelve Days of Christmas_.

_I mean, seriously,_ she thinks, rolling her eyes. _A dairy farmer kicked by one of her cows, a child bitten by a goose who’s being entertained by his older brother performing a variety of bird calls, and an unfortunate bagpiper whose rendition of_ We Wish You A Merry Christmas _clearly wasn’t well received? I hope Fletch is playing bingo with this lot_.

Serena can’t help but smile as she watches: even this busy the ward is running impeccably, the rhythm they found between them altered without her but still underlying everything. When she spots Raf and Fletch her smile widens: they’re stood side by side talking to a patient (the piper, she notes, glad to see Raf has coaxed the instrument away from him), thick as thieves, wearing matching reindeer antlers. While there’s no doubt Fletch is doing an excellent job as Director of Nursing Serena knows Raf has missed him – knows Fletch has missed Raf too – and she’s glad she could do this for them.

And then Bernie turns from examining the dairy farmer and instantly meets Serena’s eye, tilts her head in question and smiles when Serena does, nods when Serena points towards the office, and calls Raf to her. Serena watches them talk and then retreats, sits heavily in what used to be her chair – what will be her chair again, when Henrik returns. She hadn’t properly noticed the Christmas decorations this morning: the little tree on top of the cabinet, the strings of fairy lights along the shelves and lengths of tinsel around the pictures, the paper snowflakes – no doubt made by the Fletchlings for their Uncle Raf – blu tacked to the windows. Even as she smiles her heart aches a little at the memory of her mother and Ellie sat in the kitchen cutting decorations just like them, leaving tiny snippets of paper all over the table and drifting onto the floor.

Bernie takes longer than Serena expected her to, but when she comes in and closes the door behind her she’s a little out of breath and has two cups of coffee and two paper bags in her hands.

‘Strong and hot,’ she says with a smile, coming to sit on the edge of Serena’s desk.

‘Knew there was a reason I loved you,’ Serena teases, resting her hand on Bernie’s knee.

‘How’s your morning been?’ Bernie asks, setting down the cups and bags and covering Serena’s hand with her own.

‘Good,’ Serena smiles. ‘They’re so young, Bernie. Young and inexperienced and keen. Just like Jasmine.’

‘I know.’

‘But they’re doing well.’

‘My teaching up to your standards?’

‘You know it is, darling.’

‘Still okay to join me later?’ Bernie asks, tearing open the first bag to reveal a chicken and stuffing sandwich, and the second to reveal one spiced pear Danish and one gingerbread Christmas tree, meticulously iced in green and piped with strings of lights and baubles.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Serena smiles, reaching for one half of the sandwich.

Bernie gazes at her for a moment, her eyes warm and narrow with affection, then picks up the other half. ‘It’s good to have you back – even if it is only for today,’ she says quietly.

‘This isn’t forever – Henrik won’t be away forever. Hard to believe I fought against being moved down here,’ Serena says with a laugh. ‘Now I feel like it’s where I belong.’

_With you,_ she thinks, glancing at the ring on Bernie’s finger, at the matching ring on hers. _Always with you._

*

The F1s are, as Serena said, young and inexperienced. But even they know something special when they see it – and Ms Wolfe and Ms Campbell operating together is certainly something special. There’s none of the posturing the F1s have already become used to seeing between consultants, none of the jostling for dominance: Ms Wolfe betrays no displeasure at having the CEO in her theatre, and Ms Campbell shows no sign of wishing to take control. They stand on either side of the table, Bernie taking the lead, four gloved hands working in perfect harmony, Serena passing instruments before Bernie has even opened her mouth to ask, carrying on a conversation as if they were talking across a table in Albie’s rather than an open body, their outer calmness belying the gravity of their task and the constant motions of fingers and sutures, scalpels and clamps.

The juniors stand around the edges of the room, an uneven border of pale blue, spectators at an event Morven has told them used to be an almost daily occurrence but that none of them has ever witnessed. Not one of them doesn’t fervently aspire to the level of expertise necessary to operate like this, without every ounce of attention fixed on their work; and after the surgical teams they’ve observed so far, many of them wish to find a colleague they can banter and, yes, _flirt_ with in theatre. Because for all that Bernie and Serena are consummate professionals, and largely leave their personal lives – their lasting, deep love and passion for each other – outside, flirting at work, especially in theatre, has always been a part of their relationship. So they fondly tease, their smiles evident in their voices even though they can’t be seen behind their surgical masks, and their eyes catch and hold and spark. Ms Campbell, formidable Acting CEO and surgeon, seems far less scary here, and Ms Wolfe is far softer and more playful than any of them has ever seen her, seems to be enjoying her work even more than usual.

They fix the pseudoaneurysm quickly and efficiently and, when they invite the F1s to come closer and look at the repair, beautifully, stay behind to close as the juniors all file out. The last in the queue – the one who looks like Arthur – glances over his shoulder before stepping through the door. He’s just in time to see them swap places, their shoulders bumping as they pass at the patient’s feet, the corners of Ms Wolfe’s eyes crinkling in what can only be sheer happiness.

_There’s a story there,_ he thinks as Ms Campbell holds out her hand and Ms Wolfe passes her 5-0 Vicryl to begin suturing.

‘I miss this,’ Ms Campbell says.

‘Me too,’ Ms Wolfe replies wistfully.

‘Soon, darling,’ he thinks he hears Ms Campbell murmur, lifting her eyes from her work to meet Ms Wolfe’s for a moment.

But no, he thinks, shaking his head and leaving the theatre. He must have misheard.

*

They walk into Albie’s side by side, their shoulders brushing, Bernie’s hand at the small of Serena’s back. Out of her scrubs and back in a holly berry red blouse Serena looks every inch the CEO again, and she hears the tiny drop in noise as they cross to the bar; she hasn’t been to Albie’s much since she took charge and her presence is clearly something of a surprise. But there’s a gaggle from AAU at the bar and Raf waves them over, and the volume quickly rises again. Serena insists on getting a round for them all, praising each F1 by name and hugging Raf and Fletch and Morven, before leading Bernie to a table in the corner, the rest of a bottle of Shiraz in her hand.

They sit touching from shoulder to thigh, heads bowed close as they talk and sip their wine. Morven watches over the rim of her glass, sees the fond smiles and soft eyes as Bernie sheds the mantle of clinical lead and Serena that of Acting CEO. There’s no denying that the hospital is running smoothly with Ms Campbell at the helm – and AAU smoothly with just Ms Wolfe – but Morven has missed how the ward feels with the two of them together. They’re just so in sync and their seamless, complementary rhythms spread to the rest of the ward; today felt like a real Christmas gift, and Morven sends out a wish that Mr Hanssen will return soon so they can have Serena back full time.

*

Once the bottle is empty Serena stands and holds out her hand to Bernie, tangles their fingers and pulls her into the crowd of dancers. Their arms instinctively come around each other, their bodies fitting close as they sway in perfect time to the beat.

‘I thought Ms Wolfe was married,’ one of the F1s says to Morven.

‘She is married,’ Morven replies, following his gaze. ‘To Ms Campbell.’ She smiles as Serena glances at the ceiling and murmurs something in Bernie’s ear, as Bernie looks up to see that they’re right underneath a sprig of mistletoe.

There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. Bernie dips her head slightly, Serena raises herself on her toes and their lips meet, sweet and tender and lingering, a clearly practiced and familiar action.

‘I think we just outed ourselves to your F1s,’ Serena murmurs.

Bernie glances across the room, then frowns at Serena. ‘They don’t already know?’

‘Henrik left before they started and I’ve only been down to AAU a few times since. Most of them have probably never seen us together until today.’

‘I forget, sometimes,’ Bernie says after a moment, ‘that not everyone knows.’

Serena cocks her head, takes advantage of Bernie pausing to find the right word and kisses her again.

‘I love you so much I feel like it must be obvious to anyone who sees me,’ she says eventually.

‘No flashing neon _I love Serena Campbell_ sign above your head,’ Serena teases fondly, her heart swelling like it still does every time Bernie declares her love.

‘Amazed they haven’t heard it on the grapevine.’

‘I think we’re old news now, darling,’ Serena smiles, shifting to rest her forehead against Bernie’s.

‘If by old news you mean lacking in gossip-worthy drama then that’s fine by me,’ Bernie mutters.

Serena shifts again, rubs her cheek against Bernie’s and then whispers in her ear, the feel of her lips and her breath and the implications of her words sending a shiver through Bernie’s entire body: ‘We’d be _very_ gossip-worthy if they knew what I’ve got planned for you when we get home, Mrs Wolfe.’

Bernie gulps, feels her knees tremble as Serena nips her earlobe and then soothes the spot with her tongue. ‘How much longer did you want to stay?’ she asks, aiming for nonchalance but betrayed by the wavering hoarseness of her voice, her throat suddenly desert dry.

Serena draws back and gazes at her, a meeting of two pairs of dark, glittering eyes. ‘I suspect our colleagues would enjoy themselves more without the presence of their boss, don’t you?’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Bernie steps away, offers her hand to Serena. ‘Shall we?’

‘Let’s,’ Serena smiles, slipping her hand into Bernie’s, palm pressed against palm, fingers lacing automatically. But when Bernie’s gone only one pace towards their table she’s pulled up short, turns and looks questioningly at Serena. ‘I love you, Bernie.’

‘I love you too,’ Bernie replies, her mouth pulling into a wide smile. And then her eyes darken. ‘So what _have_ you got planned for me, Mrs Wolfe?’

‘Now that would spoil the surprise,’ Serena smirks.

This time when Bernie tugs at her hand Serena follows willingly, a joyous laugh spilling from her lips.


End file.
